Thelma
Written and Directed by Josh Margolin
Starring June Squibb, Richard Roundtree, Fred Herchinger, Parker Posey
Running time: 1 hour and 37 minute
In theaters June 21 

by Billie Anderson, Staff Writer

“I’m Thelma, Thelma Post, you might recognize me…from the telephone”

My parents had me quite late in life, coupled with the fact that I was a really shy kid, I never had a close relationship with my grandparents. The one person who I always felt comfortable around was my grandmother on my dad’s side, but after she died when I was five, I was terrified to put the effort into getting close to people I thought would leave my life so soon. I remember being jealous of my friends that had those close relationships with their grandparents–friends whose grandmothers lived with them, or who took them on trips, or hosted Christmas dinners–really something I haven’t thought about since I was a child. Josh Margolin’s Thelma makes me once again long for the relationships I missed out on, relationships that would feel all the more special as I age myself.

In her first leading role, June Squibb plays the elderly Thelma Post, an innocuous grandmother who doesn’t drive anymore and needs help sorting her inbox. When a malicious scammer tricks her out of $10,000, she fervently devotes all of the energy she can muster in getting it back. This includes ducking her family, going on the run, hijacking a snazzy scooter, and traversing greater distances than ever before. None of this sounds like a typical afternoon for someone’s grandmother, but that’s where the true charm of Thelma comes to light.  

Not many films have genuinely tried to discuss aging without being bleak (I liked The Father (2020), but it's not exactly a feel-good watch). Maybe it's because we shy away from the uncomfortable truths of aging—like the fear of burdening loved ones—which aren't exactly light movie fare. Thelma not only confronts these issues head-on but also finds humor in them. There's an acknowledgment that as we age, there can be a sense of losing identity, yet the film compellingly reminds us that despite physical changes, the essence of our humanity remains strong. No matter how “gnarled” we become, we don’t lose our sense of self.

The filmmakers treat Thelma and the other elderly characters with respect throughout. They handle the portrayal of aging delicately, while also showcasing the humor in inhabiting a body and mind that is constantly changing. No one prepares you for the process of aging, but Thelma is willing to share why it’s not all bad. We witness Thelma grappling with needing assistance for daily tasks as she and her friends confront the realities of aging and the fear of isolation. The filmmakers handle these concerns with sensitivity, avoiding any patronizing portrayal of their characters while still highlighting how naturally comedic many elderly people can be (and don’t realize they are). One of the best ongoing bits in the film has Thelma walking up to every elderly person she knows saying “I think I know you!” and each time is equally as funny as the last. 

At the same time, Thelma manages to grapple with family dynamics in such a profoundly silly way. A missing grandmother and a young-adult’s inability to renew a license are treated with the same stakes. The best moments in the film are with the entire Post family together, Parker Posey and Clark Gregg bringing just as much energy to their roles as Fred Hechinger and Squibb. There’s an earnest and goofy quality to all of their portrayals that make this an instant comfort movie for me. 

It’s of course, also impossible to ignore that this movie is the first of its kind and also seeks to calm some audience jitters surrounding the future of cinema: it shows us that Tom Cruise can continue to play Ethan Hunt even as he ages past 70, 80, and even 90. I don’t think I’ve ever gasped so sharply over someone going up the stairs, stepping over a lamp, or closing an ad on the internet before. The peril is so specific, but equally so relatable that it feels ten times bigger than it actually is. Kind of a phenomenal example of how to create stakes within the confines of a hyperspecific narrative. Every moment plays pretty much exactly as you could imagine if your own grandparent was in this predicament and so every next step feels so deeply personal.

June Squibb shines brightly in her first leading role, brilliantly complemented by the equally phenomenal Richard Roundtree. The striking poignancy of Squibb’s first lead role and Roundtree’s last performance set against what the film is tackling in its runtime illustrates Margolin’s natural talent at filmmaking. How special is it that this lovingly made film holds such an essential spot within the greater American film canon, and how special to be alive at a time when a movie like this comes out.  

“I love you, and if you ever do die, I’m really really going to miss you”